


The Same Stars

by fictionalfaerie



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 06:08:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalfaerie/pseuds/fictionalfaerie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of Silence of the Lambs, Hannibal finds himself curious as to how his lovely Will is doing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Same Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-level violence/gore in the opening (if this bothers you, feel free to skip past the first paragraph)  
> This combines TV canon with movie/book canon and messes with that a bit.  
> Mentions of Will and Molly's relationship, and written with Hannibal/Will in mind, but I might have been too subtle with those. 
> 
> This has been on Dreamwidth for a while, and I'm finally getting around to posting it here~  
> It was written for SketchNurse on DW in the Hannibal Exchange, 2013. 
> 
> Original Prompt: I'd love something playing with book canon, maybe with Lambs-era events, or a confrontation between Hannibal and Will after Hannibal has escaped. Maybe an exploration of the love Hannibal feels for Will and why it's expressed the way it's expressed. Or, alternately, an explanation of how Mason Verger's back story plays out in this canon.  
> I really like exploring elements that aren't usually explored, so any prompts with not generally popular characters would be welcome. I mostly like to stick to the spirit of the show, although deliberate crack is sometimes fun!

Once his business is seen to- Chilton displayed cheerfully at the base of the Buenos Ares Obelisk with his innards draped in a seemingly haphazard manner around him and a few choice pieces missing (his tongue, his eyes, his ears, and his heart- most of which are actually not really missing, and Hannibal can’t help but hope that they realize the pieces are indeed there, mixed into the mess they’ll have to walk through to get him down- his tongue, however, is indeed missing) and few fun additions just for the artistic value of it, Hannibal finds himself in the lovely position of being completely free to do as he chooses. His revenges are all exacted and he has managed to slide out of the country before anyone could figure out who the man was, let alone get in touch with anyone who would realize that this was undoubtedly his work. He does, however, hope that they contact the FBI and cooperate. He’d hate for that poor starling he’d inserted into Chilton’s chest cavity to go unnoticed, after all… 

The situation is one he relishes, freedom being something he has been denied for far too long. He floats a bit, drifting from one European country to the next, revising his memories of the places and considering quietly which one will host him for the next bit… but as he considers his next steps, he keeps coming back to one thought… 

Whatever happened to his lovely Will? 

And thus, his mind finds itself set. 

\---

It is far easier to find Will now than it was when he was trying to help out the illustrious Dolarhyde. Molly has art featured in a small gallery in a quaint Carolinian coastal town, a whole exhibit by “Molly Graham”. She doesn’t seem to be as worried about their safety as she should be, their past considered. The town is small, and while no one seems to live there under the name of Graham, he manages to find an animal shelter’s website that currently boasts an article on their lovely volunteers, including a William Winston, whose wife occasionally does posters for them as well- a few linked, featuring Molly’s work. He’s positive that he’s found his Will. 

The name rolls awkwardly off of his tongue when he tries it aloud, and he allows himself a moment to mourn the death of Graham, which flowed so beautifully. 

He chooses a much larger city, close by but easier to get lost in, with a healthy number of safe places to disappear to should he need them, and heads to South Carolina. 

Once there, Hannibal begins cataloguing things away so that he can plan. He’s pleased to find that the town they’ve settled in sees a fair number of tourists; someone wandering through the town won’t draw attention there. He studies the internet, using local phonebooks and a few more websites that mention the family’s new surname to figure out the places the Winstons are likely to frequent so that he can pass close by without being noticed. 

The first time he sees Molly, he feels a flare of hatred roll through him. She is a lovely woman, and her son is equally lovely; they seem to be wonderful for his Will. The fact that Will managed to find someone to love him- someone he could love in return, even- after the trauma of their friendship is rather astounding in itself, but when you factor in Dolarhyde’s interference and Hannibal’s hand in that, it’s rather a miracle that Molly didn’t pack her son up and head for safer ground. Hannibal thinks that maybe, should certain interactions between he and Molly ever come to pass, he might taunt her with that, question her loyalty to her child. That, he feels, would be a lovely twist of the knife, so to speak. After the initial sighting, the hatred (jealousy, if he’s honest, although that seems such an ugly word to apply to himself) remains, but not as vividly. It is duller, although whether through his own expectation of it now or through repeated sightings rubbing the shine off of it he’s not sure. 

The first time he sees Will, however… the reaction is much stronger. He finds himself whisked away into his memory palace, remembering the way Will smelled and sounded, the way he would shift restlessly and pace, remembering the way he tasted those few, few times Hannibal managed to get close enough… The urge to reach out, to pull Will to him and just be close to him… it is not an urge he often experiences, nor expected to experience. It is not the reaction Hannibal expects to have, and though he manages to slide away without being seen, it is a close thing and he spends the next couple of days ready to take flight, watching everyone around him when he ventures out. 

He leaves the town alone for a bit after that, keeping to his city. He has settled into a beach house, renting from some college kids who were looking to sublet for the summer. He enjoys the privacy of the yard and the relatively secluded beach- further down than most tourists will wander, thankfully. He’s no need to establish himself in a working position yet- the FBI didn’t catch all of his aliases when they caught him, and he’s well set to live the luxurious life he’s accustomed to for quite some time, and the newness of freedom is still novel enough that he’s yet to find himself bored. 

Hannibal is just collecting up a blanket and his tablet, a light lunch packed and next to the umbrella by the back door; he is getting ready to meander down to the beach and do a bit of reading, catch up on some stuff he wasn’t able to get his hands on in the asylum, when there comes a knock at the door. It is not the sort of loud, authoritative pounding that leads him to think of police- or, gracious forbid, the FBI… but Hannibal makes it a point to only interact as much as necessary to keep suspicions down with his neighbors. He does not think that they’re the kind who would visit. Perhaps one of them finds themselves needing something…

When he opens the door, however, he finds himself face to face with Will Graham. 

Hannibal’s lips quirk, he cannot help it, and he finds himself greeting Will before he really means to, “Well, hello, Mr. Winston.” 

Will winces at that, flinching a bit, but doesn’t stand down. He doesn’t say anything, so Hannibal takes a moment to look him over, taking in the confident stance. He is the Will that Hannibal knew years ago, rather than the somewhat skittish one who visited him in the asylum more recently, the one he had to work at to coax his Will out of. He is beautiful, and throws Hannibal off just as he did when Hannibal was merely observing from afar. He is tan, still with his same lean, muscular build and his same haircut. Even the aftershave is familiar. The scar across his face is new, and Hannibal cannot decide if he’s proud of Dolarhyde for getting that one in or frustrated that the man marred his Will, cannot decide if he’s relieved he merely wounded Will and did not succeed in killing Will (something Hannibal will admit was rather sporadic and poorly planned, sharing that information with Dolarhyde) or annoyed that the man proved himself to be so incompetent in the task. 

After he’s taken some time to clearly look Will over, he raises an eyebrow, “Mr. Winston-“ 

“Stop that,” Will snaps, frowning, “Don’t do that.” 

“Fine, then. Will. Will Graham,” Hannibal responds, relishing the way the name rolls off his tongue instead of thudding awkwardly off of it, “What can I do for you? Should I leave you here while I go gather my things and prepare to skirt past Jack Crawford once more? Or are you here as a vigilante, ready to take your vengeance on me?” 

“I saw you, in town, at the diner… at my diner. I had to come and- do you really think I’d be so obvious if I were trying to do any of that?” Will says, crossing his arms and shifting his weight. 

Hannibal bares his teeth in a mockery of a smile, “I find I am not entirely sure, Will. It seems we have grown so apart after all this time…” 

Will snorts out a laugh, an ugly sound, and raises an eyebrow. After starting at one another for a moment, Will asks, “Are you going to invite me in or not?” 

“By all means,” Hannibal responds, moving aside to gesture him in. He eyes Will as he enters, trying to decide where he might be hiding a weapon and what sort it might be. “I was just getting ready to enjoy the sun and a few of my journals. I’ve packed a lunch; I’m sure it can stretch for two, if you’re inclined to join me?” 

“What are you doing here, Hannibal?” Will asks, ignoring the invitation, facing him in that same defensive position, arms still crossed and brows still furrowed. “Why are you here?” 

“I found myself curious as to how you were faring, dear Will,” Hannibal answers, “Especially considering the… unpleasant news I last heard about you.” Hannibal drags his eyes to stare obviously at Will’s scarred cheek. He’s pleased to find that he can still unnerve Will, as it causes the man to shift anxiously. 

“Yeah, I suppose it was really thoughtless of me not to send you a thank you note for this,” Will answers, eyes rolling. 

Hannibal chuckles, “Indeed, Will. Indeed. I must admit, I was surprised when you were so easy to find. It is quite a flimsy alias you’ve adopted, Mr. Winston…” 

“Yeah, well,” Will says, giving him another eye roll, “Molly’s tired of hiding and we didn’t want to put Willy through that… plus, the FBI’s a little more worried about one of theirs with this escape of yours. You know, that girl, Agent Starling?” 

“Careful, Will. You’re sounding jealous…” 

Will laughs, “Yeah; that’s exactly it. Jealous that my psychotic past has moved on to haunt others… however will I survive?” Despite his light tone, Hannibal watches the twitches of his face as he says it and finds himself pleased to discover that Will is hiding the truth under his jesting tone. 

“Ah, Will. You wound me,” he says in response, letting the topic drop, “Now, you never answered my question.” 

Will frowns at him, but instead of turning his earlier invitation down or leaving or threatening to call the authorities, he responds with another question, “If I join you, if I give you today, will you leave us alone? Is my family going to be safe?” 

“Is that what you want, Will? Is that what’s truly in your heart? After all this time, Will? You wish for me to leave, to never return, to disappear?” 

Will’s answer comes, although it takes a few moments and doesn’t actually answer Hannibal’s question, “Just answer me, Hannibal.” 

“Fine, Will. Join me today, and I will leave you alone. My curiosity will be satisfied.” 

Will nods, hesitates, and then almost smiles. “I’m not eating your food.”

Hannibal laughs, delighted, “I assure you, it’s nothing that couldn’t be obtained at the local farmer’s market or the Publix. You’ve my word on the matter. I’ve been a bit too preoccupied, and that, coupled with the desire not to return to this lovely country’s penal system, has meant my shopping- so to speak- has been hindered a bit…” 

At Will’s unimpressed face, Hannibal motions for the kitchen, “Feel free to check the garbage, Will.” 

“Fine,” he responds, but he doesn’t move toward the kitchen. 

Hannibal motions to the back door, and Will hesitates for only a moment before leading the way, pausing to grab the umbrella as he goes. Hannibal takes a moment to catalog away the elation that spreads through him as Will turns his back willingly to him. To have that sort of trust- however tentative- after so long? Hannibal smiles. Perhaps this endeavor hasn’t been as wasted as he feared it had. 

\---

A week passes before Will returns to the beach house. There’s a ball of nerves resting in the base of his throat, jumping and trembling, threatening to burst itself into life in the form of a scream or perhaps some hysterical laughter or something equally desperate. He knows this is a terrible idea- knew it was a terrible idea the first time- terrible idea is an understatement, really… he hadn’t even told Molly where he was going (of course he hadn’t; what would he say? “Back in a moment, darling, I’m going to go visit Hannibal. You do remember him, right?”). 

He knows he should have contacted the FBI, or even dropped an anonymous tip with the local police. He tells himself he didn’t because there’d be no way to explain away his DNA at the beach house, something no forensic teams would overlook. He doesn’t think about the way it might just be because he’s glad Hannibal is free… 

At no point has Will ever condoned Hannibal’s actions. He despised them. He spent a lot of time hating Hannibal, hating the thought of what he did, hating the way he fooled everyone and took advantage of them and-

He’s learned a lot from his counseling, though. Between Hannibal and Dolarhyde, he’d been forced to admit he needed some counseling to deal with his life and the things it had become. He’d been forced to admit he needed counseling to keep Molly from breaking down and whisking Willy away. The counseling is okay, though. He doesn’t like it, never has before and never will, but he’s learned a lot from it. 

Will is completely aware that the counselor’s goal was- and is- to teach him to cope with the experiences he’s had in his life, to cope with the sensory overload of his ‘gift’. That doesn’t change the fact, however, that mostly the counseling has taught him how to let go of his anger and accept things for what they are, and if that means accepting that Hannibal is how Hannibal is and a rather brief foray into incarceration doesn’t change the fact that he was the closest friend Will has ever had… 

The truth is, Will didn’t call the FBI when he saw Hannibal because he had to know. He had to know if he was still the person Will had known and loved, or if he was the monster that every media outlet in the world had made him out to be, the monster that Will knew he should see himself… he pretends it’s the empathy that changes that view. It’s best for everyone if he pretends that’s the empathy…

In fact, the visit had actually served to relieve a lot of stress. Hannibal had managed to dispel Will’s worries that Hannibal was harboring a death wish for him--- although, Will feels like his cheek is lovely proof of how that worry was justified--- or that maybe Hannibal was going to show up in the middle of the night and destroy everything Will loved. He’d had plenty of chances, and yet in the end it had been Will who’d been forced to make the first move, after all… 

Hannibal had been well, though. Jovial and healthy and just as sharp as Will remembered him, rather than the vicious, desperate creature Will had last seen. 

As Will opens the door to the empty house, he tells himself that it isn’t disappointment coursing through him when he’s greeted with the abandoned room. He tells himself that it isn’t relief, either- relief that Hannibal is gone and safe. Will tells himself the deserted feeling making its way through him is a natural reaction to things, to knowing a man has escaped justice, largely because of his assistance. 

He doesn’t let himself think about how the emptiness is distinctly person shaped, aching like a phantom limb. 

He tells himself that this is all for the best, even as he breaks.


End file.
